Jerome's Calling
by moonray
Summary: A story with the same idea as The Long Walk, that SK wrote as Richard Bachman, but it has a completely different plot and different characters. Very gay-friendly.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The idea of a "Long Walk" with only the strongest one surviving is originally Stephen King's (written as Richard Bachman). The stragglers did get shot, but by people, and the last person just got fame and fortune. So the lizards, etc, are all my idea, and this is MUCH different from The Long Walk. It has different characters.  
  
  
  
INTRODUCTION  
  
A dark night, it was. Well, most nights were dark for Jerome, the God of All Things Causeless (GATC to his pals). The form he had taken was quite insulting: an immobile plastic lizard upon the desk of an adolescent packrat. But when the lights grew dim in the late evenings, he came alive. See, Jerome had waited long enough. It was the aftermath of the holiday people call Christmas, where the human race often wonders what comes next. The time had come for him to do The Calling.   
  
The Calling was a great and wonderful event. Or, it would be. Jerome planned for it to be centennial, but it all depended on how this first one turned out. Each person lacking a purpose would be drawn toward him. Understandably, most of the country would be on this journey, but he would begin with northern California. It always seemed like a nice place, or so Jerome thought as he read brochures from universities in California trying to nab his girl. Jerome had grown rather fond of his girl over time. After all, she at least provided him with a base for his activities, didn't she? His girl called herself Allison in private and drank much Diet Coke, but he prefered the term "insomniac dyke"... in an affectionate way, of course. His girl didn't have a cause, either, but she wouldn't be Called for quite a while down the line.  
  
Anyway, although The Calling included all those without a cause, it was not for the weak. Sure, there would be those left behind, Jerome supposed. The middle-aged farmers who only wanted to raise money for their children to go to college, the six year olds who were happy playing with clay, the insane who are so lost that they have to focus on one thing only, would be spared. For those that WERE Called, however, Jerome had made arrangements. A few of his "friends" were to accompany them on the journey, solely for the use of putting the weak out of their misery. If one walked too slowly and ignored the two warnings given them, darn, they're dead. It occurred to Jerome that this might not be the most humane way to do things - especially when his "friends" were walking, talking crocodiles - but he wanted results. And fast. The Called knew the way, but the length of their quest was up them. They would keep walking, never happening upon the small Oklahoma town until there was one clearcut survivor. This strong human would then be used for other purposes. But first, Jerome had to Call.   
  
After a click check to make sure his girl was asleep (with her, you never knew), Jerome sent his signals. He'd be exhausted by morning, but he knew by then much of the population of northern California would be on its way. He would get his pawn sooner or later. 


	2. Head Start

Disclaimer: The idea of a "Long Walk" with only the strongest one surviving is originally Stephen King's (written as Richard Bachman). The stragglers did get shot, but by people, and the last person just got fame and fortune. So the lizards, etc, are all my idea, and this is MUCH different from The Long Walk. It has different characters.  
  
  
  
CH. 2 - HEAD START  
  
There they were, sitting on the night's ground in an endless line. It was skads and skads of shoes: most were old, some were new, but all were a comfort after that cold concrete on their bare feet. A pair was being provided (how? who knew.. probably the great god, Jerome) for each person that fit them perfectly and comfortably. And now many of these north Californians were struggling into and out of pairs of shoes...  
  
"Jesus FUCKING HELL!" screamed a girl in rainbow pajamas and a leather vest as a pair of Reeboks hit the back of her braided head. She grabbed some blue Adidas sitting in the women's size 9 pile and spotted a puff of brown fuzz poking through the gap. Snatching and pulling, she uncovered a very confused black boy - or was that a girl? - with an afro.   
  
The boy (it was decided then, for there was a supreme lack of breasts) shifted from foot to foot in grey long jons and a lavendar sweater. "Can you help me find some shoes?" he whimpered. "I've always worn women's shoes... but these are tennis shoes. I'm used to platforms and high heels. Are they the same sizes in all types?"   
  
Gaping at him, the girl asked what size he wore and threw a pair of the correct shoes at him, continuing to put on her own. Denim Adidas for the lady and baby blue velcro sneakers for the... boy. "What's your name, yo?" the girl inquired as they followed the steady stream of walkers heading east.   
  
"Eh. Phillipe Garcia. No! Call me Anjel! That's my name in Spanish class."   
  
The girl looked at him sympathetically. "Hun, I'll just call you Garcia. Nice to meet you. Katarina Lawrence, at your service. Service with a smile, and all that other shibbiness."   
  
Garcia blinked. "Do you ever watch Wheel of Fortune?"   
  
Waving away his question, Lawrence spotted someone a few feet ahead of them. "Yo, Jackson! Get yourself back here and let me take a look at you. What? Is that a McDonald's uniform?!"   
  
The short, slender Filipino boy grinned sheepishly. "Well, Michael thought it would be sexy if I wore his work uniform to bed and he could strip it off me... then we were interrupted by Jerome's calling. Mike's going to be embarrassed by the time we get there, I'm sure." He gestured toward a shivering boy wearing nothing but a leopard print thong. Jackson noticed Garcia for the first time. "Who's this wanker?" he asked. Garcia shrank back a bit, continuing to walk.   
  
"Calm down," Lawrence instructed. "He's wearing purple and he couldn't find his shoes; therefore he's cute."   
  
"You don't think I'M cute when I wear purple!" Jackson pointed out.   
  
"That's because you're gay."   
  
Garcia looked quickly at Jackson after hearing what Lawrence said. When his gaze was met, he averted his eyes toward the side of the passing road. Jackson grinned. "What makes you think this little guy here isn't gay as well?" He patted Garcia's pastel back.   
  
Before Lawrence could answer, their attention was drawn to a rustling in the wooded area to the left of the road. "What's that?" someone up ahead asked.   
  
"It sounds like a.... lizard in a bucket!" Garcia whispered urgently.   
  
Lawrence slapped him on the back of the head. "Don't speak of lizards, moron! The sacred animals never come this far north, anyway."   
  
Low, gruff voices broke through the trees. "I hope these people are faster than they sound." The leaves were pushed aside, and out walked a line of tall, green figures with rifles slung over their shoulders.   
  
Jackson looked at Lawrence pointedly. She took a breath. "Well, hose me down and give me a lollipop! It's a float of Jerome's very own crocodiles!"   
  
As if in response to what she had exclaimed, one of the crocodiles broke away from the group and gestured onward with his rifle. The three teenagers caught up with the other walkers and, thank Jerome, held their tongues for quite some time. 


End file.
